


Burn Down

by yoolee



Category: Samurai Love Ballad: PARTY
Genre: Closet Sex, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 05:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12550548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoolee/pseuds/yoolee
Summary: You take shelter from the rain in a nearby castle, a coup breaks out, and while you’re hiding from enemies, Shigezane lets something slip. You decide you don’t want to let it be a joke.





	Burn Down

**Author's Note:**

> Completely gratuitous closet smut in the middle of a battle you're not a part of, while the place is on fire.

“Brings new meaning to hiding away your dirty laundry, doesn’t it?”

He cracked the joke for two reasons. One, because your pallor was scaring him a bit, lower lip caught between your teeth as you peered with unease over your shoulder, straining to see, and two, it was pleasant distraction from the fact that having you pressed rather more closely against him than may have been socially acceptable were you  _not_  evading dangerous, unknown foes was making him  _think_ things.  

 _Thinking_  was, perhaps, just as dangerous as the aforementioned foes.

You couldn’t help it. A small snort of laughter escaped, even as you buried your head into his shoulder to muffle it.  He’d wiped his sword clean when he’d had a moment on the stack of tidy sheets in the storage room where you’d you taken refuge, before the blood could dry. That wasn’t truly funny, when combined with the offhand comment, and yet it was, and here you were, and the morbidity of the moment seized you in a fit of muffled humor.

Some part of his mind, the rational, strategic, borderline-respectable part he blamed mostly on Kojuro, rattled a warning of  _don’t_. There was no more precious treasure in Oshu than the incomparable, unconquerable human pressed against him, trying to make soundless a laugh at his genuinely awful joke. He knew that. He  _knew_ that. You were Kojuro’s swiftly competent page, the only woman Masamune trusted, the sole chef whose food he would unquestioningly eat.

One didn’t lay claim to such treasures for themselves.

He almost laughed at himself for the thought. As if you  _could_  be claimed; no, it was more the way one might stand in the light of a sunbeam and be powerless to stop its warmth from curling around your heart, just as it was impossible to stop it from spreading to other dusty, forgotten corners beyond your grasping reach.

And then your hands moved, suddenly, clenching unthinkingly in the red patterned fabric over his chest as you thought you heard footsteps charge past once more, and that particular, exact moment, the rational voice was drowned out entirely by one with much more immediate needs.

“Doll,”

You looked up, alarmed by the raspy, wary tone wrapping around the usually jovial term of endearment. You’d been trying to listen for footsteps in the hall,  but despite what you thought, had heard none for some time, nor furtive whispers or shouted orders. This wasn’t your fight. Neither of you were even supposed to be here, you’d come in from the rain with cover stories and curiosity, and been caught in the middle. It was so frustrating, the way your heart pounded and limbs felt heavy. You could face enemies just fine with the training you fervently dedicated yourself to each day, but  _waiting_  for them… “Did you hear something?” Nervously, you pressed your cheek forward, forehead against the comforting expanse of his familiar shoulders until you remembered you were not some helpless, frightened child, and you went to step back, to reach for the weapon you should have had, but found instead that his arms tightened, keeping you in place. “Shigezane?”  He didn’t answer at first, and you lifted your head, licking lips that had gone dry as you tried to steady your nerves. He was frowning, slightly, eyes dark and turbulent in a way you had only seen briefly during battles. Unfamiliar, directed at you, or perhaps not, but then the scatter of your heart settled into a long, abruptly ending thud, “What’s wrong?”

Your fingers tightened their grip in the fabric they had pressed against when he first pulled you into the small room. They felt as though they’d been shocked, and you dropped your eyes from the strange, dark stare that had captured them to look in surprise at your hands, pale and tense. He laughed, suddenly, and your stomach filled with watery relief even as you noted there was something uneasy about the laughter. His arms loosened around you, the hand holding his sword going almost listless as the other came to your waist. It felt different than it had a moment ago, searing hot and fervid, as though you, and not what waited outside, were the battle. “Shigezane?” You repeated, his name softer than you intended.

 And then he smiled, roguish wink twisting his lips.  _What was wrong?_  “Nothing’s wrong, doll.” You didn’t believe him, you knew better, “Sorry. You know me. I leave the thinkin’ to those other two,” He never gave himself credit for his own intelligence, but that wasn’t it. He wasn’t looking at you. It seemed intentional.  “Never goes right when I give it a go for too long.” You weren’t sure about that, the something in your fingers telling you to be dissatisfied with that answer.

Oh.

It was your pulse.

That’s what you felt in your fingertips.

Tap-tap. Tap-tap. “What were you thinking about?” Tap-tap.

“Oh, you know.” He grinned at you, troubled, but his gaze was kind and earnest, and your fingertips didn’t move, except that he stopped talking. There was something in him that hadn’t been there, earlier. You felt yourself responding, even though you couldn’t place it.

Seconds of silence passed.  _Tap-tap_. Unsure, you leaned in, and the words hissed through his teeth in immediate response, a distraction, “Enemy footsteps. Sharpness of the backup blades.” Don’t say it. “Whether that jar of olives over there is pickled.” Don’t, don’t  _don’t_. “Screwing you senseless until my name on your mind is the only word coming out of that  _damnably_  tempting mouth of yours,” His head tilted even as you froze, “Since yours is on repeat in mine and scrambling it to hell.” Oh. “Whether or not it’s stopped raining. I don’t think it has. Do you think it has? You can usually smell the soil, right before and right after.” His eyes rose to the ceiling, self-deprecating, “Exit strategies.”

_Oh._

You knew what it was, that you saw. That you  _felt._   He chuckled, though it wasn’t a happy sound, and with a wince he very, very carefully released you, stepping back to put his shoulder against the door, eyes turned to the corridor in wait as his hands curved around a hilt once more. The boyish playfulness was gone from his shoulders and you yearned for its return.

_Ooooh._

“Shigezane,” You tried his name, but it wouldn’t come, lost in a choking gulp of air. You couldn’t smell the soil, either.

“I’m sorry,” there was something pitiful in the words, and he wasn’t looking.

“Shigezane,” Better, this time, though still more breath than sound.

“Heat of the battle and all. Don’t worry about it, please,” His lips shook on the word, quivering into a flattened attempt of a smile as something covetous straightened your spine, watching them. You could smell  _him_ , beneath the blood and smoke, beneath rainwet wood, and fresh linens stacked in heaps around you.

“ _Shigezane,_ ” He wasn’t wrong. The heat of the battle had a role, but you didn’t care, feeling it slide into something else as naturally as you could breathe air.

“Just think of it as –”

“Okay.” Was that your voice? Breathless. Confident.

Shigezane stared. “Ah…huh?”

“I think you should. I think…we should. Give it a try, that is.” It was curiously satisfying to watch his hands, reliable and confident, slip in their grip, a bit. You kept your eyes on his hands, so the searing heat on your cheeks wouldn’t steal your words and fail your courage, “The…well the, yes. The…screwing me…senseless, was it?” That bit came out a bit meeker than you intended, barely a squeak by the end, but you got it out. The air was in your ears, a thundering rush of blood and warmth. Reckless, reckless, but your hands missed his chest.   _Tap-tap-tap_. “That.” What if he’d been joking? Your cheeks seared, breath hitching as your eyes darkened briefly, and you knew they matched what you had seen in his. “We should,” he wasn’t joking this time. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. You  _knew_  he wasn’t. “We should…try that.”

You could hear the rain, and faraway shouts of battle.

” _That_ ,” he had to pause, lifting his sword arm to point in your general direction for emphasis, hilt first, “Is  _not_  funny, doll.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” It was only a whisper, and he was watching you now. No, that wasn’t the right word.  _Watching_ was too tame. Gone was the easy, friendly charm, and in its place was lightning, all-consuming and inescapable. You almost took a step back, but felt pinned in place, weight of the air making it too hard to breathe. If you took it you’d lose him, and your fingers curled. That wasn’t an option. You inched forward instead.

Shigezane exhaled, and the first real smile since he’d spoken last pulled on his lips, even if it didn’t quite make it to his eyes. “Ah— _that_  is the battle talking. The whole, narrow escape from death thing.” His grin stretched, artificial mirth in his cheeks, “Fire in the blood, all that. Did Kojuro teach you that? Big miss, if he didn’t, not like the man—good man, that Kojuro.”

That lit a spark, and you stepped closer in challenge, chin jutting into stubborn disagreement, “I’ve been in battle before.”

“Yup, yup you…you sure have, huh.” Something was at war. He looked like he wanted to argue, with himself or you was unclear. It was interesting, you thought, the sudden stutter your presence brought.

“Uh-huh.” Another step. You were nervous and you weren’t. The war was with himself, but you didn’t know why. His stillness made you still, too, and there was no room for more steps. “And I…”  _Get it out, girl,_ “I know I want to try it. That.” A hard swallow, a whisper, “You.” Your hands shook, but they reached for him, gentle in the case of being turned down.

“Listen, doll, you say that to a guy, and I—”

“I am  _not_ saying it to a ‘guy’, I’m saying it to  _you_.” You cried, almost forgetting the need to be secretive, to be quiet, the strangers squabbling down other hallways, the smoke acrid in the air. It wasn’t joke. You didn’t want it to be a joke. “So…so yes, or no?” Had you gotten it wrong, then? For the first time, you weren’t certain.  

He watched you, watched doubt force the light to dim and flicker from your eyes as you flinched in embarrassment.

The weapon was barely sheathed and tossed aside before he had you up against the shelves, guttural, sworn oath ending in your name, wrenched from his thoughts and out into the air, where it hung as anything else that may have been formed was devoured. Your arms tightened around him, hands trying to keep up with his as they tangled in your hair then dropped to your thighs, hips, lifting. You gasped into the kiss as his tongue licked, and demanded, capturing yours with dizzying insistence.

His fingers tightened, curling into your obi, loosening it, lips trailing to your throat and neck as you gasped for breath. Hearing it seemed to return him to his senses, and he pulled back, eyes wide with alarm. You caught his hands before he could go too far. They were shaking, “Nope, no. This, this is a terrible idea. Doll, this is a terrible idea.  The building is on fire. Did you remember that? I seem to have forgotten that, for a moment,” Couldn’t have imagined what distracted him, except as you tried to catch your breath, chest rising and falling in gasps, you noticed his eyes had not made it up to yours yet from there, “And there are, in fact, people trying to kill us, and—” His eyes closed, but he forced them open, an odd, solemn sincerity to the confession he hid.  _And you are too precious to get killed._  A smile, crooked and mischievous, but his hands on your hips still shook.“I mean at the  _very_ least, you deserve a bed.”

“Shigezane,” Your heart soared, until his eyes lifted once more, desolate and smoldering in defeat and desire. Firmly, “I don’t want a bed.” He froze. Your body was a sigh against him, arms wrapping close around his shoulders, searching, seeking, yearning for an affirmative, and you had to hold your breath to wait. “So…yes?”

 _Terrible idea._ The thought passed his mind.

And then you shifted against him, pressing close, and he decided he’d gotten it right the first time. Thinking was vastly overrated.

“Yeah,” Low and dark, the single syllable rumbled through a smile pressed to your temple, hands gripping your hips so tightly you could feel the thrum of his heart through the fingers and fabric. If the soldiers found you, he’d keep you safe. Simple as that.

Something held back since the first day he’d held you and known the truth broke free.

His grip dropped, sliding down your back to your thighs, and your feet were off the ground, back pressed to the shelves that jolted with the shove, jars rattling as piles of linens toppled to the floor. His lips were hot on your throat and then nipping at your smile, needy and unceasing as his hips pressed to yours, equally insistent, pinning you in place. Your hands scrambled back, trying to grip the shelves, but he bucked his hips, lifting your further, and you threw them around his shoulders instead, pulling him closer before your hands tangled in his hair, soft and still damp from the sweat of a fight and the drizzle of rain. 

“Wrap your legs around,” There was a breathless, violent reverence to the whisper, nuzzled into your kiss, playful and rough at once, and you shifted, trying to oblige. You finally got the skirts above your knees, and wrapped them tight around him. You already needed him, wanted him with every shudder of your skin that felt too hot and stretched tight over your nerves.

One of his hands left your thigh, sliding hot and slow over the curve of your bottom, which he squeezed tight with a wink, once, before it moved on, up and slow across your back to grip the collar of your kimono. His other arm held you aloft, shifted from thigh to around your waist, and you could feel it in his shoulders, amazed at the ease he held you up with. He pulled back from the kiss, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth as though reluctant to surrender to air, and you gasped for it yourself.

You craved more, and moaned his name.

Hearing it formed by your voice, kissed to breathlessness, darkened his eyes and he stole your breathe once more, tongue tracing the open, parted lips before darting in, slick and demanding,  and you moaned into the kiss, and felt him tense with need at the sound, low and whimpering in the dark room. You could taste it in him, smoke and fire, sweat and rain, spilled lantern oil and the soap from linens, blood from the battle, and then he shifted.

In one pull, his grip dragged your robe down to your waist, callous fingers hot against your back, which arched in response as your arms pulled back from him, pinned by the sleeves until you wriggled them free to fly back around him, brushing his neck and pulling him towards you, back arching against the shelves. He chuckled, obliging the silent order, and lowered his mouth to your exposed chest.

“You know, doll, you’ve really got some great breasts.” It made you laugh, the beaming, rough sincerity as he took one into his mouth, licking the tip and sucking with a smile as naughty as any you’d seen. “Loveliest in the lands,”

“You can’t even see them!” You hissed in a whisper, half-laughing, and it was true that hardly any light filtered into your stolen pace, but he was undeterred.

“What, really?” He sounded shocked, but there was a hunger under the joking tone, and the next words were a murmured, impatiently playful growl, “Mmm, well, there are other ways to explore,” And he did, in a way that your hands tangling in his hair, nails stroking the roots and tugging with a needy, unbidden gasp. He watched the color flush your chest and cheeks, the teasing smile turning satisfied at your sensitivity, “I can see well enough.” And then, in a whisper even softer, rushed, as though he didn’t mean to say it aloud, not really, as he brushed the tips of both the swells of your breasts with his lips, “Hey, don’t show ‘em to anyone else.”

“Only you,” You promised, embarrassed, and he bit down, not enough to truly hurt but enough to make you gasp, and his lips moved higher, rougher, leaving possessive marks where no one would see them, tracing each one with his tongue before moving on to make another.

“I mean it.” Another bite, your collarbone, and then your neck, slick shapes traced with an ardent, hungry swipe of his tongue, “Men are animals.”

You moaned, writhing with restless urgency best you could pinned close in the tight space, “You…that's…”

The hand that wasn’t holding you up fumbled with the remaining fabric pooled around your waist, hiked up over your knees, and a smile formed the words, “Can’t trust them.” His fingers slipped inside you, stretching and stroking with fervent impatience. A shocked cry tore from your throat but he muffled it by shoving forward, your lips opened around his neck, and you bit, needing some escape for it, some outlet for the desperate, hazy need his clever fingers and the perilous situation were sending into a fever pitch. Shigezane grinned, you could feel it, and his fingers dragged slowly inside of you, thumbing, rubbing your folds until he found what it sought, circling it with firm, constant pressure, speeding up, even as his hips rocked below yours, hard and strong.

You were wet, aching, feeling deliriously wicked as the inhale and exhale of your breath matched his, ragged and humid as shouts and rings of metal blades still sounded just down the hall, forever away.

Fast, greedy. Your best friend, your first supporter. Your lover. “ _Please,_ Shigezane,” Your hands fumbled underneath his collar, fingernails scraping the sweat-slick skin they found there, dragging down the taut muscles of his toned shoulders, holding you up as though you were light as a feather. You left one arm there, grip tighter than you intended both to pull him close and keep your balance, as the other lowered to his front, and he hissed in surprise, jerking against you.

You felt him, hard and long beneath you, and whimpered, writhing hips rolling closer, and the arm supporting you tightened, hard enough to nearly hurt, as his other freed himself, not bothering to disrobe fully. He held himself at your entrance, gasping for breath.  "You don’t say ‘no’ now, Doll, and I’m not sure I can give you another chance.“ Low, dangerous in a way that was unfamiliar and exhilarating, his voice was molten even as he apologized, and matched the starving, liquid stare that held yours captive, smile almost apologetic as it stretched crookedly across his face.

He could and he would, you knew, but there wasn’t a need. You couldn’t even gasp out a 'yes’, but your hands lowered to his neck, gentle as you nodded, and panted his name, best you could.

You were ready, waiting and wet, and with one smooth, slick thrust he was in, hands both reaching for and pulling your hips tight against him for the long, hard push. You cried out and he swallowed it, snickering though it was followed by a groan, and a whisper, "Ssssh, doll.” The battle cries were coming closer, shouts and ringing clangs of sword and steel.

“Mmn, I—” You could try to be quiet, licking your lips for the brief second his pulled back from them, but he claimed them once more, thrusting hard as you squeezed your thighs against his hips, arching your back into him as your hands tugged recklessly at his top, pulling him closer. A hand slid over his heart, trapped between his chest and yours, and you felt the pulse, wild and throbbing under your touch.  _His_. You curled your fingers, nails pressing into his skin, and you felt the beat skitter beneath them, as Shigezane groaned against you, rhythm slick and fast, deeper with each shove of his hips to yours. He pulled your hips away from the wall, moving them in silent explanation of his request.  _Fun._ You understood, and rotated them, taking him deeper as you circled, and his lips lowered, leaving a trail to your neck, biting when he found at it and thrusting hard. You felt like the storm that had sent you seeking shelter, flushed and full of fury, close to some unknown breaking point.

In your wanton need, you squirmed, disrupting the balance of you both, and you felt yourself slide down the wall with a yelp, but Shigezane swore and caught your leg, dropped his free elbow under your knee as your other foot fell to the floor, and he shifted to keep you both upright, spinning to press you around the corner of the shelves, to the back of the room, eyes on the door. You arched against him, this new angle, too close to care about footsteps and fire.

He laughed into your cheek, a contemplative hum, and then rolled his shoulder, suddenly, tossing the leg that had been balanced over his elbow up onto his shoulder and you gasped with the stretch, your other rising to your toes, and silently, he thanked your self-defense teacher for the flexibility his lessons had instilled, even as he also apologized in his mind—sort of—for taking advantage of them.

“ _Shigezane_ ,” It sounded like begging, rasped and raw. He flooded your senses. In the low light, it was all touch, sensation, texture, scent. The heat of battle was indistinguishable from desire, and fear wore into desperation, brutal and bewitching. And yet, it was him, and so it was fun, the fear tinged with playfulness, the stab of need shaped into a smile. You whimpered, rubbing hard against him, the ache exquisite and the feel of him carnal, “Please.” 

His smile was mischief and hunger, but his voice was soft, panting a promise, “I know, doll.” his hand dropped to your other knee, wet with sweat, and you thought of his shoulders again, and the muscles, tight and strong, and, realizing his intent you scrambled to get a grip on them as he dropped, hand squeezing as he knelt and  _lifted_ , “Upsy-daisy…!”

It was your turn to swear then as he straightened, pinning you firmly and inescapably against the wall, your legs as carelessly over his shoulders as though you truly were a ragdoll, your hands desperate for purchase next to them, and then his mouth was on yours, urgent, wet and laughing. He dragged your hips to his and thrust deep, the angle slick, hard, and hot and you had nowhere to move but onto him, faster and faster, stifling your moans into his mouth, where he received them with rapacious surety.

“Now,” An insistent whisper, hum into your lips, intense with the need to stay quiet, “C'mon doll, right now.” You whimpered as he rocked, plunging deeper and faster against the sweet, growing ache, and you growled in return, determined to drag him down from the slippery edge of sane thought if he was going to make you fall from it too. You couldn’t get your breath, each gasp for air stolen from you by his mouth, brutally teasing on yours, tongue licking his name from you as it tried to form time and again. You tried to move, to buck your hips but he wouldn’t let you, pushing you with insistent rhythm over and over, trapped between him and the wall, with possessive clarity. “Look at me,”  _Greedy_ , you thought, that was unexpected, but you were helpless to him, and pressed with your calves down on his shoulders, bold, wide, to arch, hands frantic in the soft sweep of his hair and you thought you heard a whisper of  _mine_  as you did.

His heart pounded against yours, and he filled you, and you surrounded him, and you tried to stay there, on that thrilling, dangerous, desperate edge of something vulgur and shattering, but Shigezane whispered your name, as softly and sweetly as the sound of rain, and your body arched like a drawn bow, toes curled and grip delirious, and with one last thrust he sent you tumbling over that edge with a final, aching, muffled cry.

Your head fell back, but there wasn’t room for it to go far, and he lifted you higher, his mouth closed on your breast, sucking as the flood of pleasure sent you shaking around him, wet and weak, and he groaned, hands leaving your bottom to let you fall hard around him, only for his arms to slide under yours, scraping up your back and to your shoulders, thrusting your still-trembling form down, hard around himself, as he thrust up to meet your fall and hold your weight with his hips, shoved into the shelves and release spilling into you with the moaned, guttural cry of your name.

For a moment the world was far away, and all you knew was bliss and his breathing, ragged and sated as his forehead pressed against yours and your eyes fluttered closed in exhausted release. Shigezane leaned forward too, letting some of his weight rest against you, and the shelves, and the wood jumped, tumbling off of its support, and Shigezane cursed in startled surprise as you squeaked with the same. Something crashed above you, and you nearly shrieked as something dripped onto your shoulder  but Shigezane lurched forward, and the sound was muffled by his shoulder, as his arm suddenly let go, “Woah—whoops!”, You lost your balance as he slipped out and you slipped down when an 'eek’, but he quickly caught you once again, but lost his balance too, caught in the tangle of your mostly undone kimono, and the pair of your froze in a tangled heap.

For a moment, you were both perfectly still.

The smell of preserved fruit and perfumed oils, drowned out the smoke for a moment.  You hissed, and he clapped a hand over your mouth as your heart stopped, then skittered in terror even as you felt his beating a solid pace through the fingers pressed to your lips. You waited, frozen to stillness, even as Shigezane found his discarded scabbard and held the hilt of its contents in grim, tense wait.

The shouts and footsteps came no closer.

Shigezane laughed, and it didn’t sound nervous, though he still spoke in whispers. “Well  _that_  was exciting.”

“That’s, um,” You swallowed around the panicked lump in your throat, thoughts still scrambled from the swing of molten, bone-deep satisfaction and abject terror. “Yeah, one word for it,” You could barely get the words out.

His gaze soften pressing a kiss to your forehead, free hand brushing your hair back from your neck and behind your ear. “You okay?” He didn’t just mean the shattered contents of the shelves.

You nodded, mute, and then he seemed to remember something, and with your heart still thundering, you watched his stare darken once more, darting down to the tangle of your limbs and clothes. He leaned closer, and your breath sucked in, memory of his heat drowning out the thought that you should ask if he was alright as well – you could see the shards of glass around you, but his mouth was on the hollow of your throat, licking and his hand had slipped down to where you’d been joined just a moment ago, fingers slipping effortlessly in and stroking in a way that had you rapidly forgetting what had happened. “Sake…how sweet.”

“Huh?” the comment broke through the haze, and he laughed.

“S'what spilled, doll.” His hand withdrew to reach back, pulling another bottle off the shelf and wiggling it.

“Oh,” And then, “We are  _terrible_ guests…”

“Yup.” He flicked off the lid, taking a long sip, but he set it carefully back on the shelf, and you noticed his hands stayed away from you, earning a frustrated protest from your lips, and lifted to your cheek, touch light, and then trailed lower, his head lowering to nuzzle its absence, waiting. He was fixing your kimono, you realized, and were slightly embarrassed to realize his own clothing had remained on, but there were tears in the collar. Your cheeks burned, remembering, and Shigezane hummed. “I’d really,  _really_  like to be even worse,” His eyes fluttered closed in regret, and there was something vulnerable in them as they opened, worried, and his hands hesitated before smoothing your hair with aching gentleness as you  _wondered_ , “But we need to go.”

You finally could smell it, then, the smoke, and it was stronger now. Shigezane was on his feet, and pulled you easily to yours, and you were mortified to find you could barely stand. The vulnerability that had been there a moment before swung into smug satisfaction before he had the grace to look abashed, looping an arm around you to support you once more, a fact that only made you  _remember…_

“Mm, what’s on your mind, doll?”

You didn’t have the fortitude to lie, resources exhausted by him, though his, unfairly, seemed to have returned to him after just a moment of rest, “You.”

He beamed like a child granted reprieve from schoolwork, lifting you easily over the wreck of the storage shelves contents, and sword in hand, he paused before listening at the door to steal one last long, slow kiss.  _Oh_. “Shigezane…”

Mischief was all you saw as the door opened, and you were pulled—back into peril, or from it, you weren’t sure—and you just barely caught the pleased whisper of, “Well whaddya know. It worked.”

**Author's Note:**

> IF A BUILDING IS ON FIRE don't stay to have sex. Does it add a lovely bit of urgency, sure, but, all that gasping and panting in smoke not a good plan, and crispy is not a good look on anyone. Don’t hang out to get it on in burning buildings, friends. Unless you are fictional character I guess :’D
> 
> Missed opportunities in this fic that I now regret:
> 
> Wow doll you are smokin’  
> there are some serious sparks between us huh  
> Hey MC is it in hot in here or is that just the burning building  
> I sure am…ember-assed to be doing this right now.  
> Brings new meaning to flames of passion, don’t you think
> 
> I say all this with some morbid gallows humor–I actually was in a house fire as a kid, it was terrifying and really sad and I am paranoid enough to keep a fire extinguisher in every room and like a bajillion aloe plants because even burns from pots wig me out a bit.
> 
> REALLY DO BE SAFE, PLEASE.
> 
> CHANGE YOUR SMOKE ALARM BATTERIES even though that freaking chirp is the most tortuous sound in the world.


End file.
